Broken Warrior
by kinky mama
Summary: When Staff Sergeant Derek Hale is ordered to see Doctor Stiles Stilinksi for help, Stiles finds out his newest patient is a tough nut to crack. But what he thinks is a typical case of PTSD turns out to have a deeper hold on his patient than he realized.


Stiles sat in his office, reading through the file in front of him. It was thick, sheets of papers describing his patient's military background, commendations, biographical information, deployment summaries, and of course his medical records. He had already read through most of the file beforehand, gathering as much information as he could on the soldier. He had joined the Marine Corps right out of college, having completed his ROTC courses. He graduated NYU with a 4.0 average with a degree in business, then went straight into active duty. He had several tours under his belt already.

Stiles looked up at his computer monitor when it beeped, indicating someone had checked in. He went back to his reading, knowing that his assistant would take care of the check-in process for his patient. He re-read the letter from a commanding officer explaining the reason for this soldier's ordered treatments with Stiles. Rubbing the back of his neck Stiles knew this would be a tough case. Usually soldiers who were ordered in to treatment took extra work. They didn't want to be there, in his room. Stiles knew this man would probably fight him every step of the way. But that was ok, it was why Stiles was here. He was trained to be just as stubborn as the soldiers that came through his door, and with his need to help heal broken warriors he would give 110% to this man.

" _Doctor, your patient is in the room and ready."_

Clicking on the intercom Stiles thanked his assistant. The video feed from the room popped up on his screen and Stiles took a second to watch his new patient. Stiles always had live video run for not only safety reasons but to also allow him to review sessions after the fact. He watched the man in the room for a minute, taking in the stiff posture. He wore his desert fatigue pants and a beige t-shirt. Large, powerful looking arms were crossed over his chest as he looked out the one window in the room. He looked ready for battle, Stiles thought. Stiles stood and steeled himself to walk in and be this man's opponent.

"Staff Sergeant, thank you for coming in," Stiles said amiably as he walked in through the door, closing it behind him. "Please have a seat, make yourself comfortable." Stiles laid the thick file down on the small table next to a large comfy chair. He indicated the couch and another comfy chair to the man across from him. Stiles sat and took out his phone, setting the app to record. When he looked up his patient was still in the same spot by the window, glaring at him.

"Would you care to sit?" Stiles asked again.

The man looked at Stiles, taking in his well-worn chinos and graphic t-shirt. Stiles never wore a white coat or fancy clothes, to him it seemed off-putting, creating an immediate division between himself and his patient. He preferred to stick with casual clothes and found that 99.9% of the time it created a sense of comfort for the patient. Stiles was just 'one of the guys'.

"No," came a gruff reply.

Stiles just nodded once as he picked up the file folder. While he would actually read from it somewhat, it also served as a barrier between him and the patient. He looked back up at the man across from him, crossed his legs and prepared to get down to work. On the first page was a recruitment photo of Hale in his dress blues with the American flag as a backdrop, the clean shaven face of a boy on the brink of manhood. Standing in front of him was a very different picture of the same man. He had a beard, as was common now for soldiers deployed to Afghanistan, face lined from years in the arid desert country and eyes haunted from witnessing the daily atrocities of war. SSgt Hale may be 36, but Stiles would venture to say his soul was probably a good deal older.

"Staff Sergeant Derek Hale, a member of the 1st Battalion, 2nd Marines. The Timberwolves. You specialized in disarming IEDs, deployed to Afghanistan in 2012. Several awards and medals for your service, your squad has been responsible for disarming more IEDs than I count. Previous missions in Iraq as well. A very, very successful career in the Marines."

SSgt Hale just raised an eyebrow at Stiles, as if he couldn't care less about what Stiles was reading.

Stiles kept going. "You have a very impressive file Sergeant. Several tours completed in Iraq and Afghanistan. Your commanding officers think very highly of you and see a very successful military career ahead of you. So, why don't we chat about why you're here, Sergeant?"

SSgt Hale glared some more at Stiles. He shrugged a shoulder in boredom. "I got into a bar fight, they ordered me to see you. That's it. Waste of my time."

Stiles knew from the file the bar fight was not the reason for his appearance here. It was only the latest in a string of incidents involving SSgt Hale. Stiles scanned the sheet with a list of incidents. He was fairly surprised to be honest, it seemed like most soldiers would have received a dishonorable discharge with the number of demerits on his file. But SSgt Hale was still listed as active and in good-standing with his battalion. He'd been pulled from active combat and placed on a forced leave, but that was it. Someone out there wanted this man helped and sent back to the Corps.

"Do you want to be here Staff Sergeant Hale?" Stiles asked.

Hale had turned back to the window, gazing out of it but unseeing. "Nope."

"Then why did you come?" It was asked deadpanned, no emotion from Stiles. Hale turned back to him again and smirked.

"Well the two MPs who escorted me here and who are currently posted outside the door to ensure I remain here had something to do with it."

Stiles allowed a small half smile to form. "Ah, I see you enjoy the fine art of snark. I must warn you Sergeant, you'll have your work cut out for you with me."

Hale just snorted at Stiles, wishing this would end so that he could just go back to his barracks and zone out, then maybe get off base long enough to get shit-faced. Derek was not interested in 'working through his problems'. He rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling tired.

"Look doc, can we just cut to the chase, get to the part where you scribble something good enough in your notes that lets me go back to my room? You're just wasting your time, I'm sure there's plenty of other fucked up grunts out there who could use your help. I'm fine."

Stiles didn't respond to that. It was a common coping mechanism. The acting nonchalant, saying they're fine, etc. He had needed to decide whether to work Hale up to the main culprit of his situation or just dive in. With Hale's attitude he was thinking that jumping right in might work better.

"So, can you tell me about the events that transpired in Karamanda?" Stiles watched Hale intently as he asked.

Hale went rigid at the question before forcing himself back into his stance of utter boredom. He shrugged again, once again gazing out the window. "There's nothing to tell. Its right there in your report, read it. We were attacked, I survived, the end."

"It was a little bit more than just, 'you were attacked', though, wasn't it?"

Hale turned again, his eyes cold. "So what? It was like countless other attacks. The good guys go out, get blown up, rinse and repeat. So what?"

Stiles made sure to keep the volume of his voice low to counteract the raise in volume of Derek's. He also decided to switch tactics. He knew Hale had built up some pretty thick walls. He wanted to keep him a little bit unbalanced.

"How many hours of sleep did you get last night Sergeant?"

Hale looked at him like he was an idiot. "I don't know, three maybe. Who fucking cares, it's not like I have to be out in the field or anything."

"Does not being back out on a front line bother you?"

"It's doesn't fucking matter. I'm here, not there." Stiles noted the tension in Hale's shoulders, the clenched jaw, despite the continued 'I'm bored to death' posturing.

Stiles was scribbling notes as he asked the questions. "Is that about average for you, three hours of sleep every night?"

Hale pinned him with another look like Stiles was stupid before he shrugged. "I don't know, I don't make it a habit to count."

Stiles continued to write things down, noting that Hale was probably severely exhausted on top of everything else, and to order some sleep aids. It was doubtful the man would take them, but he would prescribe them nonetheless.

"OK look, the only thing I'd really like for you to do is to take something to help you sleep. I think you could be doing with several good night's sleep, and god knows you deserve it. If I were to prescribe you something would you take it?"

"Will it get me out of here quicker?" When Stiles nodded slightly, Hale threw his hands up as if to say, 'fine, whatever'. Stiles wrote the script out and stood, handing it to Hale.

"Listen, I know you don't want to be here, I'm not about to assume I have the slightest inkling what you are going through, but if nothing else please just realize I'm here to help you. Just you, not the MPs out there, or your CO or anyone else. Just you. You don't have to believe me right now and that's fine."

Hale just shrugged again, grabbing the piece of paper roughly then raising his eyebrows in a silent question of whether he could leave now or not. Stiles just opened the door and allowed the man out, and Hale wasted no time in striding out through the waiting room with his escort right behind him.

Hale was his last patient for the day so Stiles headed back into his office to do paperwork and to go over his notes on him. He told his assistant to schedule Hale to come back in two more days and then walked into his office. He pulled out the section of the file that had to do with what had happened in Karamanda, reading it again. He remembered general things about that fight, it had been horrible, even for the current situation in the Middle East.

 _13 November 2014 – 0840_

 _Musa Qala District, Northern Helmand Province, Afghanistan_

 _The First Battalion Second Marines encountered fierce insurgent fighting in the village of Karamanda. Alpha, Bravo and Charlie squads were sent in to clear the village of Taliban forces and came under heavy fire._

 _The battle lasted thirty six hours. The 1/2 was provided air support and heavy artillery support. Although ultimately victorious the 1/2 suffered severe casualties as well as heavy civilian casualties._

 _Stiles kept reading and knew that the report was just touching on the details of what happened in the village. He remembered hearing about how entrenched the Taliban were in the village. They had ruled over it with an iron fist and were not willing to give it up to the Americans without a serious fight. Several members of the First Battalion, Second Marines, or 1/2, had been killed. It was one of the fiercest and most violent fights of the war. At some point during the battle a large school full of women and children had been set on fire by the Taliban, killing everyone inside. The marines had tried to rescue them, but with the amount of firepower being thrown at them from the enemy they had only been able to save three of the forty-five people inside the building. Their air support had come too late to help the innocents inside._

 _Alpha squad had been wiped out, save for one survivor, their squad leader SSgt Hale. Stiles kept reading until his intercom beeped at him._

 _"Sergeant Major Deaton is on line two for you sir."_

Stiles thanked his assistant and picked up the phone, pushing the button for line two. "Alan, to what do I owe this pleasure?" Stiles asked. Stiles had known Alan Deaton forever it seemed, and they had always been on a first name basis when not in a formal setting.

"Stiles, my good friend, glad I caught you. I wanted to see how Hale's appointment with you went."

Stiles raised an eyebrow, not that Deaton could see it. "I wasn't aware you were in on the Hale case," he said as he quickly scanned through the papers and sure enough, Deaton's name was listed in there. He hadn't even noticed. "OK never mind, there you are."

Deaton laughed quietly. "Yes, I, uh, have kind of a personal interest in Hale. I wanted to see if perhaps you were free for dinner or a drink, and maybe we could discuss it?"

While normally Stiles wouldn't dream of discussing a patient with anyone, something told him to see what Deaton's stake in this was. He wasn't obligated to disclose anything to the man, regardless of his rank. Stiles' MD outranked Deaton's SgtMaj. But his curiosity was piqued.

"Sure, dinner would work. I'm starving. Let's meet at the diner just off base, the one on Third Street," Stiles offered.

"Granny's Diner? Oh my lord, I haven't been there in ages, sounds like a plan. See you there about six?" Deaton asked, and after agreeing Stiles hung up. He had two hours before he needed to be there, so he sat back and continued pouring through Hale's records again, trying to glean as much as possible from his file. Something told him that Deaton was going to be adding some off-the-record information about Hale over dinner.

When Stiles walked in to Granny's he easily spotted Deaton sitting in a booth off in the furthest corner. The diner wasn't very busy, even for the dinner hour. The town wasn't large, consisting mainly of the base, and most military folks ate on base. But Stiles had discovered early on that Granny's made curly fries to die for. Full on mouth orgasm-inducing, deliciousness. As he walked in Joe, the cook, spotted him, and waved. "Curly fries Doc?" He yelled over the pass. Stiles just grinned at him and said, "Of course!"

He walked over to Deaton and saw the man typing on his Blackberry. Stiles wondered when the US Military would ever get their heads out of their asses and ditch the Blackberry's for something better. As he slid into the booth across from him Deaton looked up and smiled a hello, quickly finishing his message and sending it off.

"Stiles, how are you? It's good to see you," he said. Stiles had always liked Alan, he was a very unassuming man, and if you didn't see him in full SgtMaj mode you'd never guess he was in the military, let alone so high up. He always struck Stiles as the country doctor type. But he'd also seen the man dress down a subordinate who had royally fucked up and even Stiles had fought to not wet himself, and he had just been an observer.

"Alan, I'm doing good, keeping busy," Stiles replied as he warmly shook the man's hand. Before they could say anything else the waitress came over to take their order, not even bothering to ask Stiles what he wanted. When Alan raised an eyebrow in question she just smiled. "Stiles gets the same thing every time. In the countless times he's been in here I've never seen him order anything else," she smirked, giving him a wink before going off to get their drinks and deposit their orders.

Stiles and Deaton made small talk as they waited on their food, catching up on the going-ons of their lives both on and off base. A few minutes later their food was delivered and both men took a few moments to dig in and eat before getting down to business.

As Stiles ran a curly fry through his ketchup and popped into his mouth, he finally looked up at Deaton as the man asked him how the appointment went.

"Well, taking into consideration doctor-patient confidentiality, etc. It was just the one visit of course, so I barely nicked the surface. But shallow take on him? Anger and guilt seem to be at the forefront, as well as a tendency to seek out dangerous missions based off his file. Got himself a bit of an attitude that I have a feeling I will be getting better acquainted as we go on. My gut feeling is that he's going to be a tough nut to crack, especially as he's not seeing me willingly."

"So, what's your connection to the Hale case?" he asked.

Deaton chewed his food, wiping his mouth with his napkin before placing it gently back down into his lap. He rested his elbows on the table, fingers steepled in front of his face.

"I've known the Hale family for a long time, longer than I've known you. I grew up with Nathan Hale, Derek's father. We were good friends and always stayed close. I was the best man when he married Talia, and I still remember how happy they were when they had their first born."

"Derek?" Stiles asked.

Deaton chuckled. "No, not Derek. My good friends were like rabbits. They had six kids altogether. Derek and his twin sister Laura were second in line. They had an older brother, Jacob, then a younger brother Noah, then a younger sister Cora and finally Tyler. Tyler was an imp, that boy. He would've been something else." Deaton trailed off, folding his arms down and looking sad.

"Would have?" Stiles prompted, not liking the sound of that.

"When Derek and Laura were ten, they lost their family. They had been at a friend's house for a sleepover. Nathan was a criminal lawyer, and apparently a man he had prosecuted and sent away for 25 to life had managed to escape prison. He found out where the Hale's lived. The night Derek and Laura were out the man broke into the house with a tranquilizer gun, shot each member with it then set the house on fire. They all burned to death. Tyler was only four. By the time the fire department got out there the house was a complete loss. They had to identify the bodies by dental records."

Stiles was stunned and suddenly felt like throwing up his food. Jesus Christ, he thought. To lose your entire family in such a violent manner at such a young age, what must that have done to Derek?

And as he thought that, the report leapt to his mind – the entire school house burned to the ground, killing almost everyone inside, all women and children – Stiles could only put a hand over his mouth as he connected the dots.

Deaton could tell by the expression on Stiles' face that he'd made the connection. Deaton's heart hurt thinking about it, it seemed like a cruel twist of fate that Derek would have to experience that twice in a lifetime.

"I am, believe it or not, one of Derek and Laura's godparents. I did my best to support them as they grew up. They had an uncle, Peter, and his wife. Peter took guardianship of them, and I tried to help when I could. When Derek enlisted in the Marine Corps I made a point of watching over him, unknowingly to him of course. I imagine Derek would've resented anything more than that. But I kept myself in the loop as Derek grew up, and I noticed his penchant for dangerous sports and activities. He became captain of his high school lacrosse team, and until I went to his games I never realized just how brutal a sport that is. He seemed to excel in it, relishing the punishing level of contact in it. He would jump from one thing to another, anything dangerous would catch his eye, sky-diving, dirt bikes, that kind of thing. It only made sense he'd go into the military when he was old enough. Plenty of danger here, especially on the front lines. And in true Derek fashion he buried himself in it, making himself to be all he could be."

Stiles desperately felt the need to lighten the mood, and couldn't help it when he said, "Isn't that the wrong branch? That's the Army. You know, "Be all that you can be," he chuckled. Deaton chuckled with him, realizing the reason for the quip. After a second Stiles flapped a hand at him, telling him to continue.

"So Derek worked his way up through the ranks and developed quite a name for himself. He was always well respected by both his superiors and the men under him. His sense of loyalty and honor are second to none. But, I noticed that as one tour would end he would jump right into a new one, to the point that his CO would order him to take time off to go home for a couple of weeks in between. And he would, but he wouldn't leave base, never actually went home to his sister."

"What happened to his sister during all this?" Stiles asked.

"Laura excelled in school, just as her brother did. Maybe it was a twin thing, the sense of competition between them to be better than the other. They were inseparable after the fire, even going to the same college. But Laura wanted to take after her father and be a criminal prosecutor, and Derek had a hard time accepting that, probably deep down being scared that what happened to their dad would happen to her. They began to drift apart after college, Derek went into the service and Laura headed off to law school. They kept in touch, but it became less often as time went by. The last year and a half Derek has been in some horrific battles. I was beginning to really worry about him, the amount and intensity of some of the shit he's seen out there, it's enough to bring any man down. Then six months ago I thought things were moving in a better direction when he became partnered Artemis."

Stiles didn't remember reading about any partners, and who in the world names their kid Artemis he thought.

"Artemis? What that a member of his squad?"

Deaton chuckled. "No, about seven, eight months ago Derek began training as a handler with the military working dogs, and afterward was partnered with Artemis, his dog. Derek and Artemis were very attached to each other, I think Derek felt like she was a bit of a lifeline for him. She kept him grounded. And safe. She saved his life a couple of times, sniffing out a roadside bomb before Derek's squad did and preventing them from triggering it."

Stiles was realizing that in true US Government fashion his paperwork was less than complete.

"Can you send me anything you have on Artemis and Derek, anything I could read over? Maybe it could help. What happened with the dog, does he still have her?"

Deaton shook his head. "I can send you files, no problem, but I'm not sure what happened to her. She was part of the squad during Karamanda, I don't know that she survived, I think she was wounded, so she's probably no longer with us."

Stiles thought over everything Deaton had told him, realizing just how big of a factor Karamanda was in Derek's break. Something he would definitely need to do a little more research on before his next appointment with the man.

* * *

Two days later when Stiles walked in to the room to begin the second session with Hale he noted that this time the man was sitting on the couch, one leg crossed over the knee of the other, playing Candy Crush on his phone. Hale ignored Stiles and only looked up at him when Stiles asked him what level he was on.

"227."

Stiles nodded indifferently to him as he sat down, shuffling his papers and setting his own phone to begin recording. "Not bad, I can't seem to get pass 185."

Hale continued to ignore him as he kept playing.

"So, are you here on your own today or are Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum outside waiting for you?" Stiles asked.

Hale snorted at that, then clicked his phone off and left it in his lap. Stretching his arms he shrugged, again adopting the posture of someone who was bored. "Naw, I've been blessed with their presence. Don't know why, sure there's better things to do," he mumbled.

"Would you have come on your own without them?" Stiles asked.

"Pfft, no. Like I said before, I'm fine." Hale looked at Stiles as he said it, then narrowed his eyes at what Stiles was wearing again.

"Aren't you doctors supposed to all wear white coats and fancy shoes?" He asked, sarcasm dripping from his words.

Stiles looked down at himself. He was wearing jeans, Nikes and a Batman t-shirt. He shrugged a shoulder at Hale. "I was never into all of that. I prefer to dress comfortably. I don't like fancy shoes and you can never go wrong with Batman. Does it bother you that I don't wear a white coat?"

Hale just looked at him. "Why the fuck should I care if you wear a white coat?"

Stiles just smiled at him. "You shouldn't. So let's move on. How many hours of sleep did you get the last two nights? Did you use the sleep aids?"

Hale shook his head. "Nope. Don't need 'em. Slept fine."

Stiles knew that was a lie just based on Hale's appearance. He had dark circles under his eyes and he seemed pale.

"I can't help but wonder how true a statement that is Sergeant. You look exhausted. Lack of sleep is only going to exacerbate any other underlying conditions you're experiencing. It's going to hinder your success in recovery…"

Hale cut in before Stiles could finish talking. "What recovery? I told you all, I'm fine. F.I.N.E. I already recovered from my wounds. I wish you all would just get off my back and let me go back to work!"

As Hale began his tirade he had stood up and paced, and as he finished he was heading to the door as if to leave.

"SIT DOWN Staff Sergeant," Stiles said, his voice laden with the intensity of the command. Hale whipped around and pinned him with a glare.

"Why the fuck should I?" Hale yelled, "You are not my CO, you cannot order me to do anything!"

Stiles slowly stood up and walked over to Hale and got right into his face, the look on his own face brooking no argument.

"I may be a doctor Sergeant, but I am also an officer of the US Army and I outrank you. So I will say it for the last time, sit your ass DOWN."

Stiles watched as the emotions flitted across Hale's face rapidly, from the slight widening of his eyes at hearing Stiles outranked him, to the anger of being ordered, to the resignation of having to follow said order. He shot a glare towards Stiles before stepping back and going around to sit back on the couch. Even though Stiles was proud of his rank he very rarely talked about it, instead allowing patients to think he was just a doctor. It made it easier sometimes. But sometimes he had to pull it out and throw in people's faces.

He made his own way back to his chair and sat down, then looked back up at Hale. "Now, let's continue. As I said, you need to get more sleep. I'd like you to use the prescription I gave you so that we can avoid having you admitted to the med unit to be sedated. So you have a choice, take the prescription by choice and be in control of the situation, or have the choice taken from you."

Hale glared and Stiles could hear him grinding his teeth. "Fine, I'll take the damn meds."

Stiles nodded once at him. "Good, now that that is settled, let's move on. I understand you were part of the military working dog program. Can you tell me about it? How did you get involved?"

Hale looked at him, trying to adjust to the sudden change in atmosphere. One second he was being ordered to sit down and given an ultimatum on taking the meds, and suddenly he was being asked about the dog program.

"You seem to already know a lot about me. I'm sure you know all about it, it's all in my file for everyone to read. I doubt anything is private about me anymore. You know all about me but I bet no one knows shit about you." Hale glared at Stiles,

Stiles crossed his legs and settled back into his chair, putting his hands out. "What do you want to know?" When Hale just raised an eyebrow at him in a silent challenge Stiles put his hands back down.

"I'm 34, originally from Northern California. Only child, my dad is a local sheriff. I am a second lieutenant in the US Army. I went to Stanford where I majored in Psychology. Got my BA there, then my Masters and PhD at Columbia. I got into psychology because I wanted to help. My mom died when I was six from mental health issues. In her dementia she was convinced I had been sent by the CIA to kill her. Went to college with my best friend, Scott. After college he joined the service and convinced me to join as well. He went into active combat and I stayed behind due to my not being medically fit for combat. While Scott served in Iraq I completed my degrees. He was wounded, physically and emotionally. He suffered from severe PTSD. No one really caught it, he hid it well from his superiors, from me, and from his wife. While I was finishing my degree I got a call from his wife that Scott had killed himself. He had a one year old daughter. After that I decided to focus on helping combat vets. I didn't want anyone else to have to suffer in silence. And yes, I like to wear t-shirts and avoid white coats at all costs."

Stiles noted Hale's expression, could see him trying to wrap his head around everything Stiles had just told him. Hale gave him a short nod, acknowledging what he had just heard and Stiles could almost see a look of respect on his face.

"So as I said, I discovered you were part of the MWD, how did you end up getting involved in it?"

Hale sat lower into the cushion, his arms crossed but one hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck as he looked away. Stiles noted the change in posture but wasn't quite sure if it was a positive or negative.

"I uh, heard about it from some of the guys in Charlie Company. One of their guys had started training with a dog, and, uh, it just looked interesting. I'd heard how the dogs were really successful at detecting things we couldn't."

"So you thought you'd train as well?" Stiles asked, prodding the other man to continue. It was the most he'd spoken so far, outside of the little tirade a second ago.

"Yeah, I mean, I figured a dog might help us since we were usually the first on scene to disarm roadsides and IEDs and whatnot. So I signed up after I came back from the deployment I was on. They told me I had to take time off, so I did that."

"And how did you end up with Artemis? Were you assigned to her, or did you choose her?" Stiles asked.

Hale looked surprised at the question. "You know about Artemis?" There was a ghost of a smile then as Hale looked down at his hands. "Heh, she picked me."

Stiles gave him a second, then encouraged him to continue.

"Most of the dogs are German shepherds, they're easy to train. Somehow she was in the mix but no one wanted to train with her. I guess she was mean, would nip at people who tried to work with her. She'd only been there a week before I came in and they were planning on getting rid of her, she'd been tagged as untrainable."

"Was she not a shepherd? How did she end up in the program?"

Hale smiled to himself again, just slightly before looking and around the room and schooling his features. "No one knows how the hell she ended up in the kennels. She was just there one day. And no, she wasn't a shepherd. She was a fucking wolf hybrid."

That shocked Stiles to no end. How a wolf hybrid ended up in there was definitely interesting. The military usually only worked with specific breeds, and wolves weren't very common in the Middle East to create hybrids. No wonder she was labeled untrainable, he thought.

"So what happened? Besides the fact that is seems impossible for such an animal to be in that country, let alone the kennel." Stiles asked, clearly interested.

"I had gone in to socialize with the dogs. I had already completed the first stage of training, and I was to go in and see who reacted well with me. The available dogs were all out in an enclosed area and I was just walking through. Most of the dogs were around me, sniffing at me and whatnot, checking me out. Some ignored me. She ignored me, intentionally. I saw her off to the side, sitting down but watching my every move. It was the weirdest thing too, I couldn't help but just stop and stare at her. Before I knew what I was doing I was walking over to her and knelt down to her level, and she finally stood up and nuzzled me under my chin, sniffing me. Then she stuck her head on top of mine and when other dogs came near me she snarled at them and made them back off. I was hers."

Stiles watched as Hale recounted the story, the look of warmth on his face as he talked, still looking down at his hands and playing with his fingers. It was obviously a very happy memory for him, and Stiles was glad there was something Hale could hold on to.

"And I take it the rest was history, as they say?" Stiles asked. Hale just nodded a yes, still not looking up.

"We completed the training together and were partnered. I came up with her name, it just seemed to fit. She was given a rank above mine and we worked really well together. She never left my side." Hale began to lose his composure for a moment, swallowing heavily. "At least, she didn't, until, uh, Karamanda."

Stiles nodded at him, hating that a happy memory had to be dragged down. "Do you know what happened with her? I understand she was wounded."

Hale shook his head at the question, hastily wiping a tear from his face. "No, ah, I don't. When I woke up several days later, no one would tell me a fucking thing about her. I knew she'd been hurt. But no one would tell me if she'd survived, if she died, and if she was alive where she was. I was removed as her handler due to my injuries and therefore the fucking higher ups felt I had no right to know."

Stiles took note of that tidbit. He was going to dig into that, and enlist the help of Deaton if needbe. If anything Stiles wanted to give Hale some closure on his partner.

"Do you have a picture of her? I'd love to see what she looks like some time." Stiles asked softly. Hale nodded at him, finally looking at Stiles. "Yeah, back in my quarters. I can bring it, uh, next time I guess."

Stiles set his stuff aside and stood, signaling an end to the session. "I'd like that, I bet she was beautiful," he said, as he placed a hand on Hale's shoulder in comfort.

Stiles walked him to the door and opened it, then offered his hand to Hale. Hale took it uncertainly, but shook quickly before letting go.

"Sergeant, you did well today. Remember, take the sleep aid, and get some good solid sleep. I'll see you back in a couple of days."

Hale just nodded once before quickly turning and high-tailing it out of the office. Stiles watched him leave with his escort and felt like he'd accomplished a lot for the second visit. He turned back to his own private office to type up his notes before his next patient arrived, then he was going to do a little digging on Gunnery Sergeant Artemis.

Later that evening Derek sat on his small sofa in his room, the television on. He was ignoring it, it was just background noise. He slouched back and took a long pull of his beer as he rubbed his thumb over the picture he held. One of the guys in his squad had snapped it two days before the disaster at Karamanda. Derek was in his gear, rifle slung around his front, he was smiling as he crouched down and Artemis was sitting next to him, tongue lolling out of her mouth. He had one arm around her and the other held the rifle. He couldn't help the tears that began to fall silently. He missed her more than he could tell anyone. No one knew just how much he depended on her, and not as a military dog, but as a friend. She didn't judge him, didn't criticize. She trusted him and he her. God he missed her, he thought. He'd do anything to go back in time and make sure she never entered that fucking village with him.

He looked over at the bottle sitting on his end table, eyeing it as if it was the reason for all his troubles. But he ultimately gave in and grabbed it, twisting off the cap and shaking two tablets out. He swallowed them down with a swig of his beer, then finished the beer. He'd told the doc that he'd take them, and he didn't put it past the man to drag his ass down to medical and forcibly sedate him.

He laid down on the couch and turned up the volume on the tv and settled in for a while. He was asleep before he even comprehended what he was watching.

 _"Get down! Get down!" Derek yelled as loud as he could, trying to get his men to safety. They were under heavy fire, the Taliban were everywhere it seemed. He was trying to run to the mud brick building in front of him, but he felt like he was trying to run through waist high water. No matter how hard he tried his feet would not work right. He could see the faces inside, the scared children depending on him to save them. If he could just move faster…faster…faster…_

 _He reached the door but suddenly there was a wall of fire in front of him. It was so hot, Derek couldn't get in. His feet were glued to the ground as flames licked up around him. He saw the children standing in the windows, looking at him. The boy with the large brown eyes._

 _"Why didn't you save me?" He asked Derek._

 _Derek tried to reach out to him. "I'm trying!"_

 _The boy morphed into a woman, and she yelled, "WHY? Why did you not save our children?"_

 _Derek didn't know what to do. He couldn't move his feet at all, the flames were everywhere, crawling up his legs, up the building. He could barely see the school anymore before the woman in the window changed again._

 _Derek cried out as his mom looked at him scornfully. "Why didn't you save us Derek?"_

 _Derek screamed in his frustration at not being able to move and he looked up as he heard the crash and saw the side of the building begin to collapse and fall onto him. He was violently thrown by something furry but all he could hear was the painful yelp of a canine._

 _Derek thrashed awake with a violent force, breathing heavily and soaking wet with sweat. He was shaking uncontrollably and was struggling to get a breath in. It took several minutes for the panic to lessen and then he began to cry. He couldn't hold it in any longer and just let the tears fall, rocking himself on the couch._

 _"I'm sorry mom, I'm sorry I didn't save you."_

* * *

Stiles was seriously irritated with people right now. He had managed to track down very little information on Artemis. The only thing he had been able to find out was that she received wounds in the line of duty during the mission in Karamanda. She was medevac'd out along with Derek and other soldiers who had been wounded in the fight but that was the extent of his information. He couldn't even find out where she had been sent for medical aid, if the dogs were sent to the same place as the soldiers, or were there special places for just dogs?

Stiles began to work on finding the surviving members of the fight. He knew no one from Derek's squad beside Derek himself had survived, but maybe someone from Bravo or Charlie Companies could provide information, or at least point him in the direction he needed to go. Perhaps Deaton could also ferret out something helpful.

Stiles decided to put a call in to his friend first, before working on tracking down the other men. He dialed the number and waited to be put through by Deaton's secretary.

"Stiles, hello again. What can I do for you?" came the greeting.

"I'm trying to gather information on Hale's canine partner, Artemis. I haven't had any luck finding that information. I understand she was wounded along with him, but I'm trying to track down what happened with her. Would she have been sent to the same medical facility as Hale? Who do I need to talk to in order to find out what ultimately happened to her?"

Deaton paused on the other end, it sounded like he was shuffling papers or something, before he answered Stiles.

"Tell you what, let me make some calls and see what I can find out. I'll get back to you as soon as I can, is that ok?"

Stiles thanked the man for his help before hanging up. Stiles could tell he was gearing himself up for an epic project, and he would end up obsessing about it. But he felt it in his gut that finding information on Artemis was going to be critical in Hale's care.

He continued to access various databases and websites within the military servers trying to locate relevant information. He'd been working for a good hour when his intercom rang. He picked it up absently, too engrossed in his searching to pay attention.

"Doctor, there's a member of the military police outside your office demanding to see you, he says it's urgent."

The mention of the MPs got his attention and he told his assistant to send them back immediately. Stiles stood up and as he opened his office door a very large man appeared.

"You're Doctor Stilinski?" He asked.

"Yes, what's going on?" Stiles asked, ushering the MP into his office.

"Sir, Doctor, we have a situation with one of your patients, Staff Sergeant Hale," the MP stated.

"What happened officer, where is he now?"

"Please, sir, if you would follow me I can explain on the way." The MP said, trying to usher Stiles out of the office. Stiles began to follow the MP out before stopping and quickly running back to his office. Opening the bottom drawer of his desk he grabbed his emergency bag that he kept handy. Just in case, he thought.

Stiles listened as the MP described the situation, talking as they walked to a Jeep and got in. They headed off base and towards the town while Stiles began to think through how he was going to handle the situation.

Derek had been off base, walking through town. No one was quite sure what had happened or what he was doing when there was some kind of an accident. According to witnesses a couple of kids were racing down the street in their cars when a dog darted out. The dog was struck and when the first car slammed on the brakes the second car crashed into him, then careened off and hit a tree, toppling it. Hale had been on the sidewalk next to it all when it happened and had apparently freaked out. At the moment he was holed up inside a store and he was armed.

It was not a whole hell of a lot of information to go on, and honestly Stiles wasn't sure how anyone even knew to call him. But he was very much on edge wondering what he was about to walk into.

"How did you know to contact me specifically?" He asked the MP.

"Hale yelled that he would only talk to you sir, and would shoot anyone else who tried to get to him."

As they drove through town and got closer to the scene Stiles began to see the lights from police cars and EMS units. The Jeep pulled in as close as possible and Stiles shot out of it before it had completely stopped. He didn't make it very far before a member of the local police blocked him, telling him to stay behind the tape. Before he could argue with the man the MP was next to him, telling the cop who Stiles was and to let them through.

The cop lifted the yellow tape for Stiles so that he could step under it.

"Officer, what happened here?" Stiles asked the cop, ignoring how the cop looked Stiles up and down.

"Well near as we can tell after the crash, your man in there went ballistic. He dragged the kid out of the car and started wailing on him, calling him a murderer. Had the kid's buddy not pulled him off he probably would've killed the kid. Then he pulled a side arm and started pointing it around everyone before holing up inside that store."

When the cop indicated which store Hale was in, Stiles walked up to it carefully, not knowing if he was going to be shot or not.

"Hale? You in there? It's Stiles. Can I come in?" Stiles got as close to the door as he could, but didn't go in. There was broken glass everywhere, it seemed the tree that had been toppled had fallen towards the storefront, shattering the large glass window. There was a trail of smeared blood leading from the street inside the store. Had Hale been hurt?

"Hale?"

"Derek, can you hear me?" Stiles moved carefully into the doorway, his hands up in a surrender position.

He continued inside, glass crinkling under his feet. He followed the blood trail inside and around an aisle, calling out Hale's name as he went.

"Derek, talk to me man, where are you? I see a lot of blood on the floor, are you ok? Are you hurt?"

As Stiles rounded the aisle of canned goods he heard the quiet whimper. He eased his head around and the sight in front of him threatened to break his heart.

* * *

Derek was on the floor, sitting in a pile of blood, a wounded dog in his lap. He was cradling the dog while also having a death grip on the gun. He was crying quietly while rocking himself and the dog, which appeared to be unconscious.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry," he cried.

Stiles eased up to Derek, trying not to startle him. Just as he crouched down to get to Derek's level Derek sensed him and shot upward and Stiles was suddenly looking down the barrel of the sidearm, a murderous look on Derek's face.

"Stay back asshole you can't take her!" Derek growled, tightening his grip on the dog. His eyes looked wild, unfocused. Stiles wasn't sure that Derek was actually seeing him, Stiles.

Stiles put his hands up, and averted his eyes slightly, not wanting to make direct eye contact.

"Derek, it's me, Stiles, remember me? We've been talking with each other, you've come to my office twice now."

There was a slight focusing of Derek's eyes, but he still held the gun steady at Stiles' face.

"You can't take her, Artie stays with me. That son of a bitch hurt her," Derek growled again.

Stiles nodded at him, and looked down at the dog. This close to them he could see the dog was dead, its eyes were open but already clouding over, no evidence of breathing.

"I'm not taking Artie anywhere Derek, she's yours. I just came to make sure you were all right. They told me you might be hurt." Stiles kept his voice low, trying to remain calm. Derek was very agitated, despite the very steady gun arm.

"Do you know who I am Derek? I'm Stiles, remember? Dr. Stilinski? I'm not here to take Artie, just to help you."

Derek's eyes finally seemed to focus and Stiles could see the gun waver slightly. After what seemed like an hour but was probably only a minute or two, Derek lowered the gun.

"Doc?" He asked, a waver in his voice. When Stiles nodded and lowered his hands Derek seemed to crumple into himself and began crying again. Stiles slowly reached for the gun and took it, then slid it across the floor before moving in and wrapping Derek into a bear hug. He rocked the soldier as he sobbed, and Stiles just held him tight, rocking him.

After about twenty minutes Derek finally seemed to calm down somewhat and Stiles took the opportunity to pull back slightly, but still kept his arms on Derek, providing a grounding touch.

"Derek, I need to get you out of here, do you think that would be ok?"

Derek pulled away, putting the heels of his palms onto both eyes. "Am I under arrest?"

Stiles had no idea, he wasn't entirely clear on what had really happened, but he wasn't going to allow that. Stiles squatted in front of Derek, a hand on each bicep, but Derek refused to look at him.

"I have no idea, but I'm not going to allow it. Right now you need to go back to base with me so I can help you. We'll get someone to come in and help the dog, is that ok? Would you be willing to come with me?"

Derek nodded, shoulders slumping. He threw his head back against the wall, banging it a few times. His face was a mask of utter desolation and grief and Stiles couldn't help but feel his heart twist at the sight.

Stiles patted Derek's knee. "OK, I'm going to go outside for a moment and talk to the folks out there, let them know you're going to come with me, and have someone come in and help Artie. Can you stay right here?"

Derek nodded again, giving Stiles a very quiet "yeah", as he began to stroke the dog's neck. Stiles stood up and walked over to where the gun had slid and picked it up. He released the clip and emptied the chamber, then taking a look at himself, he was covered in blood, he headed back out towards the door. As he approached the door he raised his hands so that it was obvious the gun was hanging from his fingers and not a danger. The cop he had talked to moved towards him to take it, but Stiles held it away from him.

"Sorry officer, this is a service weapon, I would like the MPs to secure it for me." While the local cop puffed in annoyance the MP that had driven Stiles stepped forward and took the sidearm and clip from him and moved off to secure it in the jeep.

Stiles waited until he came back before talking to both the MP and the cop. "I'm going to be taking Sergeant Hale with me, he's under my care and needs medical supervision." Turning to the MP Stiles asked, "Officer, can you bring me the bag from the jeep I brought with me? I need my kit before I move him." The MP nodded and ran off to get what Stiles needed.

The cop tried to cut Stiles off, his hands on his hips and aviator sunglasses glinting in the sun. "Now see here, he was involved in an altercation off base, he needs to come down to the station, this is a local police matter."

Stiles wasn't interested in a pissing contest for territory with the cop, but there was no way he was letting him cuff Hale and take him to the police station.

"Officer I realize this all happened off base, but as I said the Staff Sergeant is under my direct care and he needs medical assistance. He is suffering from PTSD and something about this crash triggered it. The last thing he needs is to be hauled in to your station like some common criminal. Now if you would please clear the area so that I can get my patient out of here without any further incident I would very much appreciate it. If you have questions please don't hesitate to contact the base."

The MP had returned and handed Stiles his bag and Stiles asked him to remain where he was in order to escort Stiles and Hale back out to the vehicle. When the MP turned his back to the store in order to prevent anyone from entering Stiles rushed back in, hoping nothing had happened in the time it took for him to deal with the local PD.

"Derek? It's just me coming back. We're going to leave ok?" Stiles called out as he made his way back to where Derek was still on the floor. His eyes had gone vacant and he was staring off into the space. He made no indication of having heard Stiles until he was crouched down in front of him again.

Stiles set the bag down and put a hand on Derek's knee, and at his touch Derek moved his head to look at Stiles. His eyes were red and puffy but the tears had stopped.

"Derek I need to take you back to base ok? We're going to get you back and take care of you, but before I can do that I need to give you something to help keep you calm, is that ok?"

Derek just gave kind of a half shrug, so Stiles went ahead and opened his bag and removed the satchel inside of it. Unzipping that he removed the syringe and vial and set them down, then grabbing the alcohol wipe he ripped the little package open. He gently took Derek's arm and pushed his sleeve up to expose his forearm and wiped it down with the alcohol wipe. Getting no adverse reaction from Derek so far he went ahead and grabbed the syringe and vial and began to fill the syringe with a mild sedative. It wasn't strong enough to knock him out but it would help keep him calm and avoid any outbursts before they could get him back to base.

"OK buddy, just a little poke to help you feel better, its nothing bad, I promise." Stiles quickly administered the sedative and then threw everything back into the satchel and then back into his bag. "OK, now is it ok if I move Artie off your lap so you can stand?"

Derek grunted and grabbed the dog, holding it. "I know you don't want to leave her, but I can't get her help until I get you out of here, so the sooner we head out the sooner the vet can come get her, ok?"

Deep down Stiles hated having to lie to Derek, letting him think that the dog was alive and would be helped, but the consequences would have to be dealt with later. Right now he needed Derek in a safe place, both physically and emotionally. But he saw Derek nod, and then he leaned over and kissed the dog's head, before moving it off of his lap. He helped Derek stand up and kept his hand around his arm to steady him as he led him out of the store.

Stepping through the door Stiles could see a couple extra MPs had arrived and were beginning to clear the way towards the vehicle. Derek kept his head down and shied into Stiles' side slightly, and when he started to tremble Stiles' just held him tighter, telling him everything was ok, that no one would hurt him and they'd be back at base quickly.

They made it to the jeep without incident and Stiles ushered him to the back seat, and after buckling him in slid in next to him. Two MPs sat in front and they took off towards the base. Stiles told them to head to the hospital unit and got on his cell to begin preparations to admit Derek. Derek began to get agitated, albeit subdued thanks to the sedative, at hearing Stiles talk about admitting him. He quickly finished the call and turned to calm Derek down.

"Derek its ok, we just need to check you out, make sure you're ok, I promise." Derek just looked straight ahead and Stiles could see him slump slightly as his eyes glazed over and became vacant again. He knew taking him into the hospital would probably be a trigger but it was a risk he needed to take. Derek needed medical help, and he needed it where he'd be secure. He kept a hold of his arm so that Derek had some kind of physical anchor and willed the MPs to drive faster.

When they finally rolled past the first gate to the base and were waved through with a flash of badges they made the turn towards the hospital. The MPs pulled up into the circular drive and jumped out. The MP in the passenger seat had radioed ahead when they were at the main gate so when they pulled up there was a nurse and an orderly waiting to escort them in.

Stiles unbuckled both himself and Derek and quickly got out, running around to the other side to help Derek out. The nurse brought a wheel chair around to help but as soon as Derek saw her and the chair he seemed to wake up and see where he was. He instantly dug his feet into the ground and began to fight the hold Stiles on had him.

"Nononono I don't want to go in there please don't make me go in there," he wailed, a look of terror on his face as he struggled against Stiles and tried to desperately pull away.

Stiles quickly shooed the nurse back before grabbing both of Derek's arms and getting right in front of him, forcing him to see only Stiles.

"Stiles its ok, you're ok, do you hear me? Stiles could see the MPs come up behind Derek and silently ask if they needed to restrain Derek. Stiles quickly shook his head once, he didn't want to exacerbate the situation unless he absolutely had to.

But apparently Murphy's Law was to work against him today, as he tried to calm Derek an ambulance could be heard coming in fast, sirens on. Suddenly nurses and doctors came running out to meet the ambulance and Stiles had just enough time to mutter "shit" when Derek lost it.

* * *

Derek heard the sirens descend on him and then the lights were in his eyes. Red and blue strobes were all around him, the chaos of medical people running to and fro and he couldn't help it. He began to yell and fight, he had to get out, he could not let them take him in there. People who went inside never came back out. He pulled with every last bit of strength he had and was finally free and he twisted around to bolt, but he was suddenly caged in and his panic rose to epic levels. He had tunnel vision, all he could see around him was blood and bodies, pieces of soldiers. The screams, god the screams wouldn't stop. Someone had ahold of his arms but he managed to break them free so that he could cover his ears, block out the horrid sounds of soldiers dying. He clenched his eyes shut, not wanting to see the carnage, but he could still hear it, still smell it.

He wanted to run away, get as far away as he could from the chaos, but when he opened his eyes to move he saw the civilian in front of him, eyes wide with fear, blood on his face. He had to protect him. That was part of his job as a soldier, protect the innocent. The man in front was bleeding, he needed to be protected. There was a loud crash and Derek instinctively threw himself over the civilian, shielding him from harm with his body. He yelled at his men behind him to provide cover fire but the two soldiers just stood there. Why the hell weren't they returning fire? Before Derek could move he felt the sharp pinch of a bullet hit him in his arm, but it must've been just a graze, because it didn't keep him down. He got to his feet, trying to pull the civilian with him to get him to safety, but he felt like he was dragging him through water, his legs could barely move, and the feeling of being pulled down overwhelmed him. His vision began to swim and go black at the edges and all he could think about was that he was failing once again to protect the innocent.

"I'm sorry mom, I failed again," he whispered as he finally fell unconscious.

Stiles knew as soon as the noise from the ambulance began it was going to trigger Derek, who was already coming out of an earlier PTSD episode in town. Honestly it had started when he'd tried to get the man to go into the hospital. When Derek began to fight him Stiles had been forced to enlist the help of the two MPs with him in restraining Derek, and they were able to hold him while he thrashed. Stiles tried to grab his arms to keep him from hitting anyone but ended up getting cuffed across the face by accident, causing his nose to bleed. Then before he could do anything to stem the blood Derek looked at him in fear and threw himself over Stiles, yelling the whole time for cover fire.

Stiles had yelled at one of the nurses to get him a sedative and it only took a moment before she was back and Stiles was able to inject it. It was a powerful sedative this time, rendering the man unconscious quickly. As soon as Derek was down the same nurse had a gurney ready and waiting and Stiles and the MPs lifted Derek on to it and strapped him down. Stiles directed her to take him up to the pysch ward. As they moved in through the hospital another nurse handed Stiles some towels for his nose. He thanked the woman and tried to mop himself up as best as he could as they wheeled Derek into the elevator and up to the fifth floor.

Later that night Stiles was still in the hospital, waiting in a chair in his room for Derek to wake. He hadn't wanted to leave him and he had no pressing cases to deal with in his office, so he'd had his assistant clear his calendar and schedule a couple of patients over to his partner to handle. Earlier in the day he'd called his dad to see if there were any strings that he could pull with NYPD to get the reports on the fire that had killed Derek's family. He'd heard Derek's admission just as he gone down, and Stiles felt it played a key part in what was going on in his head.

When Stiles woke it was to the sounds of thrashing and muffled yells. He bolted up and looked over to see Derek in the throes of a nightmare. He got up and went over, quietly talking to him and soothing him through the nightmare. Finally after a couple of minutes Derek woke, sweating and breathing heavy. It took another minute for him to fully be aware of his surroundings, and when he saw Stiles sitting next to him he focused on him until he was calm. He rubbed his hands over his face, digging in to his eyes.

"What the hell happened, where am I?"

Stiles made his way back to his chair, pulling it closer to the bed. He saw the clock read just after 4am. Derek had managed a solid amount of sleep before the nightmare hit.

"You've had quite a day Sergeant, do you remember any of it?" Stiles asked quietly.

Derek looked tired, worn. He shook his head a little, "Not really. Bits and pieces I guess." He looked around the darkened room, taking in his surroundings. "I'm in the hospital? Did I hurt someone?"

Stiles shook his head and told him no. He'd gotten a call from the local police about the kid he fought with earlier. It turned out he was high as a kite on weed and had decided not to press charges against Derek because he couldn't even really remember what happened. He had turned out to be fine anyways, suffering only a bruised face.

"You had a couple of triggering episodes today," Stiles told him.

Stiles ran through the events of the day with him, keeping it concise and clinical. Now wasn't the time to delve any deeper, right now Derek just needed to rest. Stiles rang for the nurse and asked for food and water for Derek, and when she brought it in Stiles made him eat as much of it as he could. When he was done Stiles told him to go back to sleep, to sleep as much as he could.

"Are you staying?" Derek asked, and when Stiles nodded at him he asked, "Why?"

Stiles just shrugged and smiled back. "Because I want to. You don't need to be alone right now Sergeant."

Derek yawned suddenly, then blushed. Stiles just chuckled and told him to get some sleep. Derek's eyes were already drooping, but before he fell asleep he said, "Hey doc?"

"Yes Sergeant?"

"Call me Derek ok?"

Stiles smiled again as he made himself comfy in the chair. "You got it Derek."

* * *

The rest of the early morning had passed by uneventfully, there were no noticeable nightmares and Stiles was glad to see Derek sleep until almost ten. He'd instructed the nurses to not disrupt him for any reason to allow him as many hours of uninterrupted sleep as he could get.

Stiles was also happy to see Derek looking more aware when he woke. His eyes were bright and his skin had regained some color. He had a long way to go but this at least was a tick in the positive column.

Stiles had been outside Derek's room taking a call from Deaton, who had passed on some information regarding the military dogs, including where Artemis may have been sent for medical care. Thanking the man for his help Stiles vowed to call the facility as soon as he could. He hung up and stepped back into Derek's room to see how he was doing.

"How are you feeling today Derek?" He asked quietly. Derek shrugged and looked away, but not before answering, "Good and bad, I guess."

"In what way?"

Derek looked a little uncomfortable, playing with his hands. "Good physically. That's probably the best sleep I've had for a while. Bad because, well I remember now a lot of what I did yesterday. I freaked out again and hit someone."

Stiles could understand where he was coming from, and he'd be able to deal with the negatives of the day much easier now that Derek had gotten some sleep and food, albeit hospital, into him.

"Listen, there's no reason to keep you here, so I'm going to discharge you back to your quarters, but I do want you to come into my office, ok? I'd like to keep working with you if that's ok?" Stiles asked him. To his surprise Derek nodded and said yes. Stiles handed him a business card before squeezing his knee.

"That's my direct line, it bypasses my assistant. If you ever find yourself feeling triggered by anything, or you feel you're about to be triggered, you call me, ok? No questions asked. Hell, you can call me for any reason, I don't care. You got it?"

Derek gave Stiles a half smile, and agreed, looking at the card in his hands.

"Derek, hang in there. Don't give up, ok? We will get this through it, I promise. Come by around five and we'll work through what happened yesterday. I'll bring dinner for us." Stiles said with a smile.

Derek laughed and nodded again. "I'll be there doc."

Stiles was in the waiting room sorting through messages and mail that his assistant had left behind. He'd sent the man home for the day since they were technically closed. He was fairly surprised when the door opened and Derek walked in. He honestly expected the man to blow him off.

"Derek, I'm so glad you came!" Stiles said genuinely. He was also happy to see it was only Derek, no body guards. Derek looked uncomfortable, like he himself couldn't believe he'd actually come.

"Hey doc, yeah I came." He flapped his hands out, then blushed as he said, "obviously."

Stiles just smiled as he came around from behind the desk after putting on the mail back down. "Come on, have a seat. We're going to be very informal tonight. Food's on its way. I don't want this to feel like a 'session'," Stiles used air quotes, "tonight. Instead I want it to feel like two friends just chatting, ok?" Stiles gestured Derek over to one of the cushy waiting room chairs as he moved a second one over to be in front of Derek. He then moved the small coffee table so it sat between them and scooped off all of the magazines that were a permanent fixture in all waiting rooms across the country. As he tossed them onto the desk a young girl breezed through the door, her arms full of the big red pizza bag.

"Sweet, perfect timing!" Stiles paid for the pizza and drinks and put them down on the table, opening the box and telling Derek to dig in. He tossed him a can of Coke as well and dug out napkins from the desk drawer. The two dug in and ate for a few minutes, Stiles letting Derek become comfortable before he started.

"So, you ready to talk about what happened yesterday? No pressure, just a chat. But maybe you could tell me what started the episode so that we could work on fixing it."

Derek chewed for a moment, remaining silent. He popped the Coke open and took a drink, then put it down and grabbed another slice and took a bite. Just as Stiles thought Derek was going to keep silent he spoke.

"It was the squealing tires."

There was a pause before Derek put his pizza back down and rubbed his eyes, letting his head rest in his hands, and he let out a large sigh.

"I heard the cars racing towards me, and the squealing tires threw me back to Afghanistan. It sounded like one of the little piece of shit cars the insurgents would drive when they would race through a town and shoot it up. When I saw the cars coming towards me I started to freak out, then the dog," Derek paused again, trying to compose himself. "The dog came out of nowhere and ran right in front of them. They hit it and it landed right it front of me, and all I could see was Artemis, laying next to me, bleeding out after having knocked me out of the way of the wall that came down. When I heard the driver started laughing I lost it. I thought he had killed Artie, and he was laughing, and as I dragged him out of his car he kind of morphed into an Arab, and I just started wailing on him, cuz he'd killed my partner. Then someone was dragging me off of the guy, and I thought I was under attack. There were so many noises around me, I couldn't focus on what was happening, just that I was in danger and I had to get me and Artie to safety. I didn't realize until after it all happened that I had gone into town armed. Normally we wouldn't do that. I don't even remember taking my weapon with me. But I grabbed the dog and made sure we were safe inside the store. At some point someone came in to find out what had happened, but I pulled my weapon on them, and apparently I was yelling for you."

Derek was shaking slightly and looked pale, he had rushed his words out quickly as if they hurt to speak them. He let out a huge, body-wracking breath and looked up at Stiles. Stiles nudged his food at him, wanting him to take another bite and drink as he sorted himself out.

"I can see how that would impact you. How long have you been State side?" He asked.

Derek took a bite of his food as he answered, "a couple of months."

Stiles nodded to himself as he drank his Coke. "So you're still fairly fresh out of combat then. And you said before that this has happened before, yeah?"

Derek nodded, still eating. "Yeah, twice. I'll hear or see something that throws me back onto the front line, and it's like I'm there again, all I see is a war zone. Then I come around with no idea where I am or how I got there. But I've never done anything like this before, where I went after someone."

"Do you remember what happened after I got you and brought you to the hospital?" Stiles wasn't sure if Derek remembered his episode outside the entrance.

"Kinda. I know you were trying to get me to go in and I didn't want to. Then I woke up in the bed."

Stiles made mental notes to himself about how much was being remembered and then told Derek what had happened. He left out Derek clocking him, feeling like it wasn't necessary and would only add to his current guilt. Besides it hadn't been an intentional hit, he was just in the way of a flailing arm.

Derek finished his pizza and sat back in the chair, and Stiles could see the emotions playing over his face. Derek almost looked close to tears as he folded his napkin, then unfolded it, and repeated the movements.

"So it sounds like I'm pretty fucked up then, huh doc," he said quietly.

Stiles sat back as well, choosing his words carefully. He'd only had a small amount of time with the soldier in front of him, but he already knew he was not the type to want medical speak, or the way most doctors seemed to come off as patronizing to their patients. This was a man who preferred unsugar-coated words.

"You've seen some seriously fucked up shit Derek, more than enough for several lifetimes. And that's just acknowledging the things you've seen and had to do as a member of the military. Yes, you are a Marine, you were trained for war and from what I've read of your file and heard from your colleagues you're a damn fine soldier. But you are also a human being, and in spite of all of the military training out there it still messes you up to see the crap you guys see out there every day. Only someone without a soul wouldn't be affected after so many years of bloodshed, no matter what kind of front they put on.

I also know that a lot of people think people like me are full of bullshit. I'm supposed to understand exactly what you're going through despite my never having seen combat. I don't pretend to understand what that's like. I tried to follow Scott into active service, but was told by more than one doctor that I was medically unfit. It pissed me off, to be honest. So I try to help as best as I can in different ways, by taking care of good men and women like yourselves. Because why I will never fully understand what it's like to be under fire, I do know how the human mind works, and unfortunately I've seen my fair share of broken people."

Stiles wasn't quite sure what prompted him to spill that to the man in front of him, but he was kind of glad he had. Derek had been quiet, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He rubbed his bottom lip with the side of his hand before he looked up at Stiles.

"Have you lost patients? Have some been too broken to be fixed?" He asked, quietly, almost as if afraid to ask.

Stiles felt his heart stop for a second as images assaulted his mind, images and memories that he'd tried to bury.

"I have, yes." He'd lost five, to be exact. Three had committed suicide early into treatment, he'd barely been able to get started with them before they were gone. One was a suicide by cop after getting drunk one night and belligerent, then pulling a gun on the local cops. But the last one, the last one almost made Stiles give up. The last one almost took Stiles with him.

Derek figured the doc wouldn't tell him anything more than that, it wasn't Derek's business. So he was surprised when Stiles began to tell him about it.

"I've lost five patients. We were early in their treatment before they decided to end their lives. I really hadn't had a chance to even begin with them before it was over. But there was one, one that still haunts me to this day."

Stiles closed his eyes as images swam before him, the blood, so much blood. The look of utter horror on Private Armstrong's face.

"I had a young man, a private, who I took on. He'd been caught by the Taliban along with several of his squad. One of them was a female private. They'd been tortured, and while one was tortured the others were forced to watch. They'd been especially – cruel – to the female. I guess they took pleasure in, uh, hurting her, as the rest of the squad had to watch. It took five days before they were rescued. When members of a US team finally got them out, she took the side arm off of one of them and shot herself. So anyways, the private, he'd begun to go downhill, emotionally. He'd been very fond of the woman, considered her a friend. After he was back in active duty his squad was clearing a village when he had an episode and went off the rails. Ended up killing a family, gunning them all down. His anger at what had happened was overwhelming. He'd killed the mother and four kids, forced the father to watch. The father was a suspected informant for the Taliban. Fast forward a couple of months, he's been relieved of duty and was seeing me. We were trying to work through it all. It was hard. There was so much anger, so much guilt. Despite his anger he knew deep down what he had done was wrong, and he was really struggling with it. Then about three months after I started seeing him I got a call. It was him, telling me something was wrong, that I needed to come to his house quickly. I grabbed an MP just in case and we high tailed it out to this little bungalow off base. I walked in and he was sitting there on the floor of his living room, a gun in his hand. His wife, baby girl and twin sons were on the floor, all dead. He'd shot them all. Said he didn't deserve his family since he took away the one in Iraq. He looked at me and apologized, then turned the gun on himself."

Stiles took a shaky breath, trying to calm his heart rate as he heard a muttered 'fuck' come from Derek. It took a couple of minutes to compose himself before finally looking up at Derek.

Derek had his head in his hands and looked like he was reliving his own nightmare. They stayed quiet for a few minutes as both tried to settle. Stiles felt the need to lighten the mood, desperately.

"So I know you didn't come here to have me spill my guts all over the place, sorry about that. I'm supposed to wear the white coat and make you talk, right?" He said with a forced chuckle.

Derek sat back in his chair and grinned, raising an eyebrow at him, indicating Stiles lack of said white jacket.

"But, to get back to your question, and what I think you were truly asking me, I do not think you are broken beyond repair. We can get through this."

Derek gave a little nod, before playing with his hands again.

"Do you," he paused, "Do you ever feel like it's your fault that private killed himself? That you could've done something to prevent it?"

Stiles read between the lines on Derek's question. This was not a question about Stiles, but he answered it anyways.

"I did, yeah. For a long time I felt like I had let him down, that I could've done more, faster, to prevent what happened. It took a while for me to realize and accept that it wasn't my fault. I tried my best to help him, and I wasn't able to. I still struggle with that guilt, but I know now that it ultimately wasn't my fault."

Derek thought about what the doc said, but he just couldn't get himself to believe them in regards to himself.

"So how about you Derek, any nightmares you're having that you could use help with?" Stiles asked.

Derek snorted as if to say, "well duh". "I always have nightmares. Par for the course, right?" he said, looking up through his lashes.

"Can you tell me about some of them?" Stiles asked. Derek shrugged like he was nonplussed, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed that emotion.

"Eh, just the usual, you know. Re-living battles, that kind of thing."

"What about the last one. That was an obviously very traumatic battle for you."

Before Stiles could continue Derek stood, brushing off his hands. "You know what, uh, I really need to get back. Thanks, for the food and whatnot. I'll talk to you soon eh?" And with that Derek was out of the door before Stiles could really process the sudden departure. He mentally made notes to dig in to Derek's troubles with dealing the Karamanda battle.

Deep down Derek knew he was trying to run away from his past, but as he fled from the doctor's office he couldn't seem to convince himself to stop. It was too much, too soon, and he wanted to bury it, not bring it all back up. He jogged down the steps and got into his truck, jamming the key into the ignition and speeding off. As he made his way off base the anger began to set in. Who did the doc think he was? Trying to pretend to be his friend, then throwing Karamanda in his face like that. This, this little man who didn't know the first fucking thing about what it was like out there. What it was like to see men die all around you. To see women and children blown into pieces by roadside bombs. To hold the hand of your fellow soldier while his life blood drained from him. To see fire, the fires from hell burning all around you, killing those you love. To be the reason why they died.

Derek was finally feeling no pain as he finished off the beer. He clanked his bottle against the bar top, signally that he wanted another. The bartender slowly made his way over, placing his hands down on the bar in front of him.

"Derek, I think you're done buddy." Hal, the bartender who owned The Admiral, wiped the top down with his towel as he took in Derek's appearance. Derek was a regular, and a bit of a bad drunk. It wasn't unusual to get servicemen in who tried to drink away their nightmares. Most came in on their nights off and would unwind, play some pool and just have a good time. But every so often he would see someone like Derek come in, someone with the haunted look in their eyes that said they had seen so much hell that they just wanted to drink it all away.

Derek just glared at him. He wasn't in the mood for some self-righteous prick telling him when he was 'done'. He was done when he said he was done, no one else.

"Just give me another fucking beer Hal." Derek was so not in the mood to be cockblocked on his beers.

"Sorry bud, you know I can't. Can I call anyone for you, or get you a cab back to base?" Hal gave him a sympathetic smile. Derek sneered at him and flung a twenty dollar bill on the bar and stomped out. He'd walk home, it was cool out and maybe the crisp breeze would help him. He made his way back, kicking rocks and trash as he came upon them, his anger still brewing but being accompanied with a profound sense of loss. It hit him suddenly, the grief and loneliness, wanting the comfort of his family. God he missed them so much, his brothers and sister, and his parents. Even at his age there were times when he just wanted his mom.

Before he knew it he was sitting on a low wall and pulling his cell out, dialing a number he hadn't dialed in years. Hell he wasn't sure if it was even still current, or why, to be perfectly fucking honest, he was even dialing it. But he did, and listened as it rang a few times and getting ready to hang up when someone answered in a sleepy voice.

"Hello?"

He paused, mouth suddenly dry.

"Laura, is that you?"

Another pause…

"Oh my god, Derek is that you?"

Yeah, it's me. Um, I'm sorry I called so late."

"Jesus Christ Derek, is it really you? I've missed you so much, where are you? Can I come see you? Is everything ok? Are you home?"

Laura rapid-fired the questions, not letting Derek answer as each one came out.

"Y-yeah, I'm in the states. I, uh, fuck." Derek began to choke up, emotions he'd been trying to keep at bay threatening to spill over. He took a deep, shuddering breath in, trying to calm himself.

"Derek, are you ok? Talk to me, please," Laura begged.

"Sorry, uh, guess I had too much to drink. Feel kind of out of it. I'm not really sure why I called you."

"But I'm so glad you did Derek. I've been looking for you for so long. God I miss you so much, you have no idea. Will you tell me where you are?"

Derek didn't answer at first, finding himself drifting off in thought. He forgot how much his sister sounded like mom. With the exception of the dark hair they had both taken after their dad, but Laura had their mom's attitude and spunk, where Derek had their dad's stoicism and tendency to be broody.

"Derek? Are you still there?"

"God I miss mom, Laura. I miss her so much. If she were here she'd know how to fix me," Derek said in a choked voice.

Laura's heart broke into little pieces at the sound of her twin's voice and words. Something was very wrong and she needed to be with her brother more than she needed air right now. If Derek wouldn't tell her where he was she'd pull in every legal favor owed to her to have the call traced and she would track him down.

"Derek, will you let me see you? I want to be with you and help, will you let me? Just like in the old days, when you would bandage up my knees when I fell off my bike and hug me and tell me it'll be ok?"

"Yeah, ok. I think I'm ready for that."

"Are you still in Miramar?" Laura was already online looking up flights that would leave first thing in the morning.

"Um no, I'm at Lejeune." Laura quickly changed her search parameters for North Carolina and found a seven a.m. flight. She wasted no time in booking it, cost be damned.

"OK, listen Derek, I'm on my way, ok? Come tomorrow the terror twins will be re-united. Should I call you when I arrive? What do I need to do in order to get to you once I'm there?"

Derek honestly didn't know. He'd never had anyone visit him in all the years he moved around the various bases. He figured the doc would be a good place to start and he gave her his contact number, telling her who he was. As he did so he could feel himself getting hot and dizzy, and he felt like he was going to come apart at the seams.

"L-listen Laura I gotta go, I-I just have to go," he gritted out.

"OK Der, hang in there ok? I'll be there in the morning, and then I can be there for you. Just stay strong brother. I love you Der, so much."

There was only a choked sound before the call was disconnected. Laura looked down at the phone number her brother had read off to her, and looked at the clock. It was late, much later than anyone should be calling other people, but this was her brother and she didn't give a rat's ass if she woke anyone up. She promptly dialed the number and waited to speak to one Doctor Stiles Stilinski.

Derek couldn't even say goodbye and just hung up as he felt himself boil over in a myriad of emotions. The next thing he knew he was on the ground on his hands and knees sobbing his heart out. He sat back on his heels before flopping down and drawing his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and laying his head down. He cried for his family, for the friends he'd lost in the war, for the innocents he was unable to save. He cried until he exhausted himself and didn't care when he drifted off to sleep, unaware he was in someone's front yard.

* * *

Stiles couldn't help it, he was anxious. He'd gotten a call late last night on his personal line and immediately thought it was Derek, only to be surprised by the caller identifying themselves as his sister Laura. They had arranged to meet as soon as her flight came in and she arrived on base. He had already alerted the guards and had an MP waiting to meet her at the entrance and escort her to his office. She was unwilling to talk over the phone, which at that hour of the night he was ok with, but from the little that was said he could tell this was a woman to be reckoned with.

When he heard a feminine voice speak to his assistant he jumped up and opened his door and walked out to the waiting area.

"Miss Hale?"

The beautiful woman in front of him looked up to him and smiled, nodding her head. "That would be me. You're Dr. Stilinski?"

Stiles nodded, unable to tear his eyes off of her. She looked like Derek, long midnight black hair pulled into a pony tail and the greenest pair of eyes he'd ever seen, rimmed with long black lashes. She was dressed for comfort, jeans and t-shirt with a light jacket zipped up. A little bit eye make-up finished the look. He tried to remind himself this was his patient's sister, not a hook-up at the local bar, but god she was gorgeous.

"I am, please, come on in," he said, proud of his strong voice and that it didn't crack like a teenager's. He ushered her in and closed the door behind them so they could have some privacy. He offered her coffee and she gladly accepted. She needed a jolt of caffeine.

"Thank you, I need this after the night I had," she said, bypassing the sugar and creamers and taking a long sip.

Stiles sorted his own cup out and sat. "How was your flight?"

She shrugged a shoulder before putting her cup down. "Short and sweet, thankfully. I'm very grateful we are on the same coast, so it was only two hours to get down here from New York."

She settled into her seat and unzipped her jacket, shrugging it off and putting it on the floor next to her purse. Stiles felt instant love bloom when he took in her Avengers t-shirt.

"Oh wow, you're a woman after my own heart Miss Hale," he chuckled, motioning to her shirt. She gave him a cheeky grin. "Please, call me Laura. I'm only Miss Hale in the courtroom," she said.

Stiles nodded at her and smiled. She then pinned him with her best prosecutor look. "So, Derek."

Stiles sighed. "Yes, Derek. I'm really glad you're here. He's really struggling and I feel like he's in a place right now where he could go either way, either uphill or down."

"Where is he now, can I see him soon?" Laura asked.

Stiles made a face as he took another sip of his coffee. "In a little while, yes. He's currently sleeping off a bender in the brig. He was picked up early this morning passed out in Mrs. Neudermeyer's front yard, after being kicked out of our local bar. He'll be released in a few hours. But for now I'd like to spend the time talking to you, if that's ok."

Laura looked pained at the news. Derek had never been a drinker. He'd have a beer every once in a while if they went out, but she'd never seen him get drunk, other than on their 21st birthday. The two of them had gotten so sick from mixing drinks that he'd declared he would never get drunk ever again.

"Is, is this common, with him?" Laura asked.

"I'm afraid so. He's been picked up several times for drunken disorderly and for bar fights. It's not unusual, for someone in his situation, to battle with alcohol and/or drugs."

Laura looked worried. "So, what's his 'situation'? Is he doing drugs as well?"

Stiles sat back and mentally debated on how much information he could give her before he was crossing the line in terms of patient confidentiality. Laura was listed as his emergency contact and only next of kin and made his decision.

"Derek is suffering from a fairly severe case of PTSD. Not severe enough, yet, to require compulsory hospitalization, but he may be getting close to it. He's been suffering from flashbacks, nightmares, and his coping mechanisms have been pretty negative. Anger, fighting, alcohol. No drugs that I know of. His last hospital stay showed no drugs in his system. I imagine blood work was run on him this morning when he was brought in, but I haven't gotten a copy of the results yet."

Stiles watched as Laura looked off to the side, trying to take in the information. Her eyes were watery, but he could see her forced composure. Her twisting hands gave her away though.

"God, I somehow knew something was wrong. Call it a twin thing, I don't know. But I haven't been able to find Derek for years. Every time I tried to call someone in the military to find out where he was stationed, they wouldn't tell me anything. His cell had been disconnected and he never responded to emails. I must've sent over a thousand emails to him. I even resorted to posting statuses about him on Facebook, just hoping that maybe he'd see it and call me. I tried to use my legal connections but no one would tell me anything. The only reason I knew he wasn't dead was because as his next of kin I knew the military would contact me if he'd been killed."

A tear finally broke free and slid down her cheek before she could hastily wipe it away. But when she looked back up at Stiles, she had a look of determination on her face.

"I want to do whatever I can to help my brother, Doctor. I refuse to leave until I know he's ok. So please, tell me what I can do."

"Thank you, believe me I could use your help. I'm having a hard time getting him to open up, and I thought I'd gotten a foot in the door last night when we met. He'd asked me some questions that were indicative of his feeling immense guilt about something. But before I could keep going he stormed out."

Stiles paused, trying to work through the words to use to ask his next question. It was a question that was not going to be easy to ask, and he would bet his left testicle that it wouldn't be easy for Laura to answer.

"Can you, or, rather would you be willing, to tell me about the fire that took your family?" He asked quietly. Deep down he knew the fire that killed Derek's family was intrinsically linked to the events on the battlefield.

Laura took in a sharp breath, surprised by the question. Even after all of these years it was still painful to think about. She rubbed her eyes, buying time for herself. "You, you think that has something to do with what's going on with Derek?" She asked.

Stiles nodded. "I do. I think it's the backbone of a lot of what's going on right now, and a source of his guilt. But I don't have many details on that night in order to make a sound theory."

She cracked her neck before rubbing it, closing her eyes as the images came forth. The sight of her family home in ruins, the smell of acrid smoke, the fire engines, police cars and ambulances. The coroner's vans.

"I can still remember it like it was yesterday. Derek and I had been invited to a sleepover. We were best friends with a boy and girl and we always traded off on sleepovers. We'd been looking forward to it. It wasn't until about three in the morning when our friend's parents woke us up, and brought us out to the living room. I remember wondering why Jessie's mom was crying. There was a cop standing there, with a few others behind him. He told us what happened. I just remember bawling, and Mrs. Macdonald rocking me back and forth on the couch. Derek took off, he just bolted out of the house before anyone could catch him. He ran through the woods until he got home. They found him on his knees watching the last bits of the fire being extinguished. He saw the body bags being carried out to the vans."

Laura took a long breath in, held it, then let it out slowly. "When Mr. MacDonald finally found him he was almost catatonic. He wouldn't speak, he didn't say a word for two weeks after that. He'd gotten into a huge fight with mom and dad earlier that day. Shit, I don't even remember what the fight was about. But he was really mad at them. He'd been grounded from a basketball game that was coming up or something. I don't remember. The MacDonald's took us in until our Uncle Peter flew in from California. He'd been there on business, and had taken Aunt Rose with him and our cousin. They came back home as soon as they could get a flight and came and got us. We lived with them."

When Laura put her head in her hands, Stiles could see the tears running down her cheeks. He got up and grabbed a bottle of water out of his little micro-fridge and a box of tissues and brought them to her. He then sat in the chair next to her and took her hands in his.

"I am so, so sorry. I can't imagine what it must've been like to live through something so devastating."

Laura gave him a small smile before thanking him for the tissues and water, and then grabbed a few and wiped her face. She took a deep breath in and sat back in her seat, composed once again.

"Derek was never the same after that. Before that he was all boy, he was my partner in crime. He was a huge sports fan and loved to play practical jokes on people. We did everything together. Then he joined the service and we began to drift apart. The next thing I knew it was like he was gone. He wouldn't respond to my emails, I couldn't get ahold of him, nothing."

Stiles couldn't help but smile at Laura. "Something tells me that you two were a force to be reckoned with as kids."

Laura laughed and nodded, glad for the lightening of the moment, however brief. "'Oh my god we used to pull more shit on our parents. Mom used to go on and on at us about how we gave her grey hairs. Some of the stuff we pulled, shit we must've been a nightmare." She chuckled and looked distant as if deep in memory.

Before Stiles could ask anything else his phone rang, so he leaned over the desk to grab it an answer.

He listened for a minute to whoever was on the other end before thanking them and hanging up.

"Well it looks like Derek's been released back to his quarters, under escort. If you're ready we can head over to see him." Stiles told Laura, and she immediately grabbed her jacket and purse and stood up, more than ready to see her brother.

Stiles led her out of the building and into a golf cart that he liked to use occasionally. The barracks weren't far but he didn't know if Laura would want to walk. He turned it on and took off and it was only a few seconds before Laura started in with some banter.

"Oh good lord, what's the top speed on this thing, ten miles per hour?" She joked. Stiles just grinned at her as the breeze ruffled his hair. "Only when the hamster's a young one. The old ones just can't get up that fast. I just got a new one so, you know, you may want to buckle up."

Laura couldn't help but laugh. This man was not what she was expecting. She had come prepared to face off with some old white-haired, loafer wearing doctor with his white coat neatly embroidered with his name and title, while looking down his nose at her. Not this goofy guy who apparently liked the Green Lantern, judging by his shirt.

"You're so not what I was expecting when I got here, you know that?"

Stiles grinned again. "Yeah, I get that a lot. I hate white coats and fancy shoes." He snorted, "Your brother called me out on that right off the bat."

Laura laughed. "Oh I bet he did. Did he pull his 'eyebrows of doom' on you?" Stiles snorted again, then laughed before glancing to her. "Oh did he ever. Those things are dangerous."

He gave her a cheeky grin as they pulled up outside the barracks, then schooled his features into something a bit more professional. He'd delve in to his unprofessional bantering with a patient's family member later. "OK we're here. Just be warned, I know he knows you were coming, but I'm not entirely sure how he will react when he sees you. I don't want you to take it personally if it's a negative reaction, ok?"

Laura sobered up as well, then nodded at Stiles and mentally prepared herself to see her brother for the first time in years. They got out of the golf cart and walked up the steps and Stiles flashed his badge to the man on duty before opening the door so Laura could enter ahead of him. They went up to the second floor and then headed towards the back of the building to Derek's quarters. Laura saw two MPs standing guard outside and assumed this was Derek's room. Stiles nodded to them, and showed his badge and they turned and knocked for him, then stepped off to the side.

After a minute or so they could hear some banging around and footsteps. Laura's pulse kicked up a notch in a mixture of fear, anticipation, and anxiety at what she was about to confront. The door opened a crack and Derek looked at Stiles.

"What's up doc?" He grumbled.

Stiles choked out a laugh. "Oh my god, Sergeant Hale did you just Bugs Bunny me?"

Despite the glare in his eyes Derek couldn't stop the smirk of his lips as he realized what he had said. "Derek, you have a visitor, is it ok for her to come in?"

Derek's eyes went wide before he threw his door open and saw his sister behind Stiles. He stood there, rigid and unblinking. Laura wasn't sure what to make of it, was he happy to see her? Mad she came? So she just watched him for a minute and took him in, the haunted look in his eyes, the dark circles, the beard. Oh my god he has a beard, she thought. She felt her eyes well up but tried not to let the tears fall, not knowing how he would take it.

Derek took a small, aborted step towards her before stopping, as if afraid he wasn't allowed to do so, and let out a small, "Laura?"

Laura took a chance and ran at him with her arms open and wrapped her brother in a tight hug. "Oh god, Derek, I can't believe I finally found you. I've missed you so much Der-Bear". She couldn't help it and allowed the tears to flow as she sobbed into Derek's shoulder. Derek had a death grip on her and just nuzzled into her neck and hair, eyes closed, holding on to her as if his life depended on it.

* * *

Stiles had left the two alone to catch up in private, instructing the guards to remain on duty just in case. As he headed back to his cart he sent a text to Laura with some information for meeting up later on that she could look at when she wanted. As he hit send a call came in and he answered it. When he heard who it was and what they had to say, he stood there listening, before profusely thanking the person and getting into his cart and wishing the damn thing would go faster than fifteen miles an hour as he headed back to his office. He had plans to enact.

"So, you gonna tell me why my little brother refused to tell me where he'd been for the last four years?" Laura griped at Derek. They were sitting on the floor in Derek's barracks, leaning their backs up against his couch. They had finally broken apart after hugging each other for what seemed like hours. Laura still couldn't believe her brother was in front of her, and was still trying to wrap her head around what was happening to him.

Derek snorted at her. "Please, you're a whole 65 seconds older than me, I'm not your little brother."

Laura just grinned at him and punched him in the shoulder. "Hey, seconds is seconds. I am technically older than you, therefor making you technically my little brother. Now stop dodging my question Derek. Talk to me."

Derek couldn't look at his sister. He fidgeted as guilt, shame and sadness rolled through him. "I don't know how to answer that sis."

Laura just raised her eyebrow at him. "Well you had a very specific set of instructions in your file that said no one was allowed to notify anyone as to your current whereabouts, so obviously you had a reason for hiding. From me. Let's be honest, other than Uncle Peter who else do we have left?"

"How is Uncle Peter?" Derek asked.

"He's doing well, as is our aunt and cousins. Answer my question Derek. You're not getting rid of me before I have a reason for why you wouldn't let me find you. Was it something I did? Is this really because I went into law like dad?"

At this Derek finally looked up, concern etched across his face. God, she thought he was trying to prevent her from contacting him because of something she did? "Shit Laura, no. I didn't do it because of you. Yeah I mean, I hated that you went into law and followed dad's footsteps. I thought for sure you'd end up, you know, like dad. Hurt. Dead." He waved his hand at her, trying to non-verbally say 'I didn't want you dead because some asshole felon wanted revenge on you like what happened with dad'. Despite that fear, throughout the years when he'd had free time and internet access he'd kept tabs on his sister and her career. He knew she was a shark in the courtroom, someone not to be trifled with. She'd won some pretty high profile cases and was being groomed for the District Attorney position. He was proud as hell of his sister.

He sucked in a huge breath. He knew he needed to open up, but at the same time he really didn't want to. All his feelings of insecurities, self-loathing and guilt came rushing to the forefront. "Uh, god, I did it because of me. I didn't want you to see what kind of person I'd become. I'm no good Laura."

Laura just watched as her brother seem to crumble within himself, could see the slight tremble of his hands, the pink tinge to his ears. She could tell just from that and his few words that there was a mountain of baggage on his shoulders. She wiggled over so that she could pull him into her side, able to give him comfort without forcing him to make eye-contact with her. She knew he couldn't face her at the moment, but that he needed the contact and comfort only a twin could provide. He nuzzled in, twisting around slightly so that his head was on her shoulder. "Why aren't you a good person, tell me."

Laura's question was void of emotion, no judgement anywhere, making it easier for Derek to answer. "Some of the shit I've seen, and done, it's changed me. I've killed so many people, seen so many killed in front of me. Little kids scared and crying, hiding in the rubble of what used to be their home. Their parents blown to pieces in front of them. Insurgents using women and children as human shields, or suicide bombers. I've become numb to it all. It's just another body in my sights as I pull the trigger. Sight the enemy, squeeze the trigger, move on to the next one."

Derek took another breath and closed his eyes, just focusing for a second on the feel of Laura's hand on the back of his neck, rubbing it while her other hand was entwined with his in her lap. She was anchoring him, keeping the panic at bay as the image of war rushed through him. When images of fire began to creep in he could feel that panic trying to take hold, to choke him with it. As if sensing his distress Laura pulled him in tighter whispering to him that everything was ok.

Laura could tell something was happening, she just wasn't sure what. Derek felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack, and she knew there was more to the story other than every day war getting to him. It didn't look like he was ready to open up to it though, and she didn't know if she should push him. She decided not to, and wanted get Derek back to a good place, mentally.

"Do you have any pictures of the people you worked with? I'd love to see anything you have, see what you've been up to since you've been gone."

Derek wiped his eyes and sat up, glad for the distraction that finally pushed the fire back to the lock box in his mind, where he kept it.

"Um, yeah actually I do. Uh, let me think, I think I have a box in my closet. Hang on and I'll get it."

Derek jumped up and opened his closet door, digging around before coming back out with a shoebox that had seen better days. He grabbed a couple of sodas out of his fridge and a bag of chips and sat back down next to Laura, close enough so they were touching. He needed that physical contact right now. He popped the top off and pushed through the various papers and pictures and whatnot that had been shoved in over the years, before finding a stack that was more recent.

As he rummaged in the box Laura's eyes caught on something and she shook her head in disbelief before reaching in to pull it out of the box.

"Seriously Derek? A purple heart? You were wounded?" She didn't know if she was angry or proud, but felt herself leaning more towards angry that her brother had been wounded seriously enough to be awarded the medal. Derek just shrugged. He didn't deserve it anyways. There were others out there who had done much more, sacrificed more.

"Yeah, got that a couple of years ago. No big deal." Laura gave him a look that said she was seriously contemplating smacking him upside the head, but she finally settled back, giving him a pointed look that said she'd be bringing it up later.

"So these, these were from a couple of months ago. We had some down time and had a party. A couple of the guy's wives had sent massive care packages for the entire squad." He started to hand her the photos, one by one. "That's Reggie, a mean looking asshole but with a heart of gold. Always giving candy to the local kids. And this one is John, the prankster. Got to where you had to double check everything to make sure weren't gonna get pranked. He rigged the toilet paper in the latrine to explode once, covered a poor private in TP confetti. It was hysterical. And that's Jack, he was our communications guy, loyal as hell. And, this, this is Murphy. He was just a kid. Barely eighteen and green as grass."

Laura grabbed the last photo and looked at it, feeling her eyes water. "And who is this?" She asked, looking at the picture of Derek lounging on the ground with a massive dog laying across his legs, a smile on his face.

Derek looked at the photo, rubbing his thumb over it, his eyes distant as he recalled the day. It had been a good day, they'd been training hard and had finally gotten a chance to relax. It had been hot as hell, somewhere around 120 degrees and he had about eighty pounds of canine on top of him.

Derek smiled slightly. "That was Artemis. She was my partner." He paused, feeling himself choke up. He cleared his throat, "She was my best friend." He hastily wiped the tears from his eyes as he said, "God I miss her." He sat up quickly, wiping his face and shoving everything back into the box. "So, yeah, that's the squad. They're all gone now. I'm the only one left."

Laura leaned over and gave her brother a hard hug and a kiss on his cheek before he could bolt. He good naturedly pushed her away and got up to return the box. When he came back he plopped down and opened the bag of chips and his soda and dug in. Then he noticed what his sister was wearing and couldn't help but comment on it.

"Nice shirt, what are you, five?" Laura threw a chip at him and stuck her tongue out Derek. He just laughed and thanked her for proving his point. "You would like the doc, he wears Batman shirts."

Laura felt her blush hit suddenly, and of course Derek saw it. He raised an eyebrow at her then kicked her foot. "What gives?"

She just smiled and looked down, trying to will the heat in her cheeks away. "Yeah I met him this morning."

Much later that night, even though it was against base rules, Laura was asleep in Derek's bed while Derek was on the couch. She bolted straight up and almost off the bed as the sounds of screaming filled the small room. She flew out of the bed and raced over to the couch where Derek was flailing and yelling, deep in the throes of a nightmare. She could only make out some words around the sobs, and she grabbed his arms to try to keep him from hurting himself as well as to try and wake him up.

"Derek! Wake up! Come on Derek, it's ok, wake up!" She shook him gently and after a minute he jerked awake, eyes round in terror and glazed.

"Mom,momI'msosorryIdidn'tmeanit!" flew from his mouth before Laura shook him again, finally waking him up completely. Derek just looked at her and then crumpled into her arms and sobbed. Laura's heart was jack-hammering in her chest as she engulfed Derek in a protective hug and rocked him, murmuring soothing words to him, wondering what the hell he'd been dreaming about and how it involved mom.

The next morning was rough, to say the least. Laura was exhausted as was Derek, although Derek went about his morning routine like nothing had happened. They had not been able to get back to sleep and so Laura just cuddled with her brother until the sun came up. At about six Derek said he was going for a run and after changing into his running gear left the room.

Laura took the time that he was gone to check her work emails and reply to those that needed a response, then shot a text off to Stiles to tell him about Derek's dream and that somehow their mom was in it, and apparently played a prominent role. Derek had refused to talk about it, brushing it off as just one of his usual nightmares.

Around seven in the morning her phone buzzed with a text from Stiles, saying he wanted to meet up with them and try to talk Derek through the nightmare, and how it had differed from his other dreams. Laura had replied back saying she was all for it, and that when Derek got back from his run she'd call him. After sending the message she tossed her phone down on the table and then went to root through Derek's fridge to see if he had anything to eat.

* * *

"OK, thanks so much for your help, you have no idea what this will mean. Yes, I will. Of course, un huh, yeah. Thank you ma'am, when you get the details just email or text them to me, that'll be just fine. Got it, thanks again, bye."

Stiles hung up his phone, feeling more positive than he had in a while. There was low buzz of excitement thrumming through him that helped with the concerned feelings he'd had when he'd gotten the text from Laura. He was still waiting to hear from her so he assumed Derek was still out running. He had plenty of work to do in the meantime and decided to get to it while he waited. He got caught up on emails and the various reports that needed to be filed, checked up on patients that he'd seen and who had been discharged.

He was reading a report filed by his partner on a patient's progress when his cell rang, and he picked it up to answer it.

"Hello, this is Dr. Stilinski," he said.

"Stiles? This is Laura. Have you by any chance heard from Derek? He still hasn't come home and it's almost noon. He's been gone since six and he's still not back." Laura sounded worried and Stiles immediately felt the anxiety kick in.

"Shit, do you know where he went to run? Did he say?" Stiles asked.

"No, he just got dressed and said he was going for a run. He's been up since two-thirty when the nightmare woke him up. He was pretty off this morning, very grumpy and stand-offish. I didn't think much about it until now. God do you think he's ok?"

Stiles wasn't sure how to answer. He didn't want to panic Laura, but at the same time his disappearing after a nightmare that night did not sound auspicious.

"Let me alert the MPs, stay where you are in case he gets back, and keep your phone handy. As soon as I get off with them I'll call you back." After she agreed Stiles disconnected the call and immediately contacted the military police office. He explained the situation and that he had a possible situation with a patient. He gave them Derek's information and description and asked for help in searching for him. They told him they would begin a search and get the information sent out to the rest of the police force and would also send two men out into town to look. He hung up with the MPs and then dialed the hospital in town, explaining the situation and asking if anyone fitting Derek's description had been admitted. After being put on hold for several minutes the nurse on the other line had said they hadn't had anyone looking like Derek in to either the E.R. or their Urgent Care departments. He thanked the nurse and hung up, then called the local police and went through the same routine. After yet another negative from the local police as well as the base hospital he sighed and sat back in his seat, wondering where the hell Derek was. He was about to call Laura and fill her in when his office line began to ring. He yanked it up, hoping it was the military police with some news.

"Stillinksi," he said.

"Uh, hi Dr. Stillinski, this is Hal, I'm the owner of the bar in town," came the voice from the other end. "I think you should come down here, I think one of your patients is here and he's in pretty bad shape."

Stiles froze for a second. Shit, what the hell was Derek up to? Stiles thanked him and said he was on his way. He called the MPs and alerted them to the situation, telling them to head into town but to not go into the bar or anywhere near it. He had no idea what kind of state of mind Derek was in and wasn't about to make things worse if he could help it. He then called Laura as he flew out of his office towards his Jeep, skipping the golf cart.

He pulled up to Derek's barracks and Laura was already outside waiting for him. He'd barely stopped before she was throwing the door open and jumping in.

"Oh my god what's going on? Is he hurt?" She asked, her heart in her throat with fear for her brother.

"I'm not sure yet. I got a call from Hal who owns and tends the local bar. He's got my number because sometimes patients find their way in to try and drink away their problems. He's helped me out a few times, letting me know when someone needs help. All I know is that Derek is there and he's in bad shape."

"Oh god," Laura whispered to herself. "What has he done? If he's hurt himself I'll kill him."

It didn't take more than ten minutes to get to the bar, Stiles wasn't exactly following the speed limits. He pulled up to the front of the bar and got out. Hal was standing by the main entrance leaning against the wall, his arms crossed while he chewed on his thumb. Stiles walked up to him and introduced Laura.

"Hey doc, got here fast. I got here just before I called you to open up for the day. I saw the back door had been pried open and figured I'd been robbed. I went inside and found Derek in a corner, completely shit-faced and talking to himself. He keeps apologizing to someone for something. He's armed too, so I left him alone and called you right away."

As Hal talked Stiles saw one of the MPs walk up to him. When Hal finished he turned to the MP and nodded to him.

"Hal, thank you so much for calling me. I'll take care of it from here. Needless to say you should probably either go home for now or be somewhere else until this is resolved, then you can either close up for the day or open to the public." Hal nodded and walked off. He figured whether he opened up for the day depended on the outcome of what was about to go down. Stiles then turned to the MP, who gave him a quick update.

"My men are positioned around the bar, at a distance so as to not agitate your patient. We won't do anything until either you tell us or it all goes to shit. We understand he's armed."

Stiles thanked the man then turned to Laura.

"OK, I need to go in and try and talk him down. I have no idea what I'm about to walk into. I want you to stay out here, by the front door. If I feel it's safe I'll call for you to come in. I think you'll be able to help, but not until I know it's safe for you to do so. Ok?"

Laura nodded, her eyes wide with fear. She was completely terrified about what her brother was going to do. When Stiles felt comfortable that she wasn't going to try and barge in, he made his way to the front door that Hal had left partially open. He eased himself inside of the dark interior, the only light the natural sunlight coming in through the windows. He could hear Derek in a far corner and slowly made his way over.

"Derek? It's Stiles, I'm coming over to see you, ok?" Derek didn't respond, and Stiles kept moving slowly but making enough noise so as to not startle Derek. As he got past the tables, the chairs still on top of them, he saw Derek on the floor. The stench of alcohol was strong, and Stiles could see several empty bottles of various types of booze littered on the floor. As he got closer he finally caught sight of Derek sitting on the floor.

Derek was rocking himself, crying. He had a pistol in his hand and he would bang it against his head periodically. Stiles knelt down in front of him, putting a hand on his foot.

"Derek, hey bud, can you tell me why you're here?"

Derek looked up, eyes red and puffy and haunted. "It's my fault, it's all my fault." He said, his voice hoarse.

"Derek is it ok if Laura comes in and stays with you? She's worried for you and wanted to help. Is that ok?"

Derek nodded, and muttered something about apologizing and that he wasn't a good man. Stiles called out to Laura, and could hear her cautiously make her way inside. Stiles stood so she could see where they were and she walked over, her hands going to her mouth and her eyes watering at the sight of her brother. She got down on the floor in front of him, wanting to touch him but worried about the gun. Stiles knelt down again as well.

"Derek, can you give me the gun? Can I hold it for you?"

Derek just looked at him and tightened his grip.

"No, I need to use it, I need to pay for what I did," he said. Stiles could see the safety was off, but it wasn't cocked yet.

"What do you have to pay for, can you tell me? Is it about Karamanda? Or something else?" Stiles asked again, keeping track of the gun. He wasn't exactly trained in disarming a soldier safely.

"Derek? Why do you have a gun? I don't want you to hurt yourself," Laura asked softly, the anguish in her voice coming through. Derek looked at her and his eyes watered up again.

"I told you Laura, I told you I'm not good anymore. It's all my fault, I have to pay for it. They shouldn't have paid for it, it was me," he cried. Stiles went on alert when Derek suddenly pulled the hammer back and pointed the gun at himself. Images of his long ago patient swirled through his mind, and all he could think was, shit it's happening again.

"Derek," Stiles said sternly, grabbing Derek's wrist that held the gun. Laura had gone rigid in fear, her eyes never leaving Derek. "Derek, tell me first, why you have to pay, and for what. What happened in Karamanda wasn't your fault. It was a battle, it was war. It wasn't your fault."

Derek cried harder, then smacked himself in the forehead with the pistol. "NO! DON'T YOU GET IT? IT'S MY FUCKING FAULT THEY DIED! I KILLED MY FAMILY!"

Derek suddenly stood up and tried to back away from Stiles and Laura, waving the gun around. "I KILLED THEM! I KILLED MOM AND DAD AND CORA AND NOAH AND TYLER! I'M THE REASON THEY'RE DEAD. I COULDN'T SAVE THEM! I COULDN'T SAVE THOSE PEOPLE IN THAT BUILDING EITHER! THEY EVEN TOLD ME IT WAS MY FAULT! MOM TOLD ME IT WAS MY FAULT I DIDN'T SAVE ANY OF THEM!"

Laura just looked at her brother, horror-struck by his words. She honestly had no idea what to think, or why Derek thought the fire that killed their family was his fault.

"Derek, why?! Why would you blame yourself for the fire? You were with me that night, you didn't start that fire!" Laura cried.

Derek whirled on his sister, his face a twisted mass of pain, distress and anguish. Stiles immediately moved in front of her, offering any amount of protection as he began to second guess his decision to bring her in.

"I can't do this Laura, I can't live with this guilt anymore. I just can't!" Derek sobbed, the gun pressed against his head, but flat, the barrel pointed off to the side. Laura walked up to him, hands on her hips.

"Derek Alexander Hale," she said, her tone fierce and commanding, "you listen to me right now. You did not kill our family, and I will not listen to any more of this bullshit, do you hear me?"

Derek dropped to the floor again, sobbing. "But I did, I did Laura. I wanted them dead. I-I told mom I wished they were dead, right before we left. I-I told them I hated them." He sobbed even harder as Laura enveloped him, quietly taking the gun from his hand and passing it over to Stiles. She pulled her brother into her chest and rocked him.

"Derek, we were ten years old, and you'd just gotten in trouble with mom and dad. Every kid at some point tells their parents they hate them and they wish they were dead. But they're not dead because of you, Derek. They died because that asshole felon wanted revenge." She kissed him on the head and kept rocking him, and Derek held on to her tightly. Laura gently carded her fingers through Derek's hair while she continued to murmur to him.

"Yeah, but it was the last thing they heard from me. What kind of child does that?" He cried. Laura just kept her tight hold on Derek while he continued to release years and years worth of guilt and shame, letting him cry it out in the safety of her arms. Stiles sat off to the side, having secured the pistol, before going outside to turn it over to the MPs and tell them things would be ok from there.

He now understood the root of the problem and acknowledged the huge turning point that happened inside a little local bar for Derek's recovery. It would take time, but he knew he could help the man, especially with his sister's help.

* * *

EPILOGUE

Stiles stood there with Derek at the arrivals area of the Sky Manor Airport just outside of Jacksonville. The area was jammed with people, civilians and military alike. It was a busy time of year and Stiles was worried he was going to miss the person he was looking for. Derek looked bored, not knowing why Stiles had dragged him there. Stiles had only told him he needed to come with him, but would offer no other information. He was sitting on a seat playing on his phone while Stiles nervously scanned the crowd of people trying to make their way out. Stiles felt out of place since he was wearing his fatigues, as was Derek. He never wore them, never really had a reason to, but today was different. He kept watch when he spotted a head in the crowd wearing a fatigue military hat. That had to be him, Stiles thought. His nervousness ratcheted up about 50 notches as the man got closer and made eye-contact with Stiles. Stiles smiled then turned to Derek.

"Derek, come here. I need you to meet someone that's flown in from Quantico."

Derek looked up from his phone, face blank. He'd come a long, long way in the months since the incident in the bar and had made several improvements, especially with his sister's help. Laura had taken a sabbatical from work and moved down to be close to her brother. She'd found a small little apartment ten minutes from base and was there every day to support Derek. There had been steps forward and some backward, and currently Derek was in a "fuck you" phase, as Stiles liked to call it. Broody and grumpy were his middle name. But hopefully that was all about to change.

He sighed and stood up and moved over to Stiles, and followed his line of sight. There had to be a hundred people all trying to get out of the airport, probably to cabs and loved ones waiting to take them home. He saw a guy in military fatigues walking towards them, but he had no idea who he was. Suddenly there was a bit of a commotion and Derek could see the man look down as he started making jerking motions, almost like someone was trying to pull on him, only to suddenly over-correct. Before Derek could figure out what the dude's problem was there was a flurry of motion and people yelping and pushing each other to get out of the way.

As the crowd parted Derek sucked in a breath and thought he might faint when 85 pounds of hybrid wolf came hurtling towards him and tackled him to the ground. Before he could register the hit he was flat on his back being licked and nuzzled to within an inch of his life. He finally sat up and took a good look, his eyes watering and his breath hitching.

"Oh my god, Artie is that really you girl?" He couldn't help it, he cried as he hugged his partner and let her lick him and wiggle into him, trying to get as close to him as possible, her leash getting tangled up in arms and legs. He was in so much shock at seeing her alive and healthy and literally on top of him that he didn't notice how the crowd of people all looked happy and sad, some clapping, some crying, other taking photos with their phones as man and wolf, partners, were re-united.


End file.
